


Bucky's Gift

by Brumeier



Series: Making Connections [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gift Giving, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Slash, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 16:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is out jogging when he gets not one but two surprises, courtesy of the man he's been looking for. The man who was once his very best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bucky's Gift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Taste_is_Sweet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_is_Sweet/gifts).



> This was written for [More Joy Day](http://sdwolfpup.livejournal.com/674800.html), which I hadn’t heard about until last week. Someone asked to do something nice for me, and so I’m passing that along with this fic for Taste_is_Sweet, who has been after me to write a Bucky fic.

Steve’s feet pounded along the trail, heart thundering in his chest. The October air was crisp and clean here in the park, the city sounds muffled by the trees, and the other joggers he passed nodded politely.

He liked running in the park. A full loop was a little over six miles, which meant he could run it four times in just over an hour. Plus, the terrain varied enough to keep it interesting and the scenery was pretty nice. 

Running was the best way Steve knew to clear his head, outside of hammering away at a punching bag. He didn’t regret moving into Avenger’s Tower, not really, but his teammates seemed wary of leaving him alone for too long. Steve had been searching for Bucky for four months with Sam, and now that he was back his friends were going overboard trying to take his mind off the fact that he’d come up empty. Running was the only time they left him alone.

Steve followed the same route every day. He enjoyed the consistency, the basic unchanging sameness of it. Ever since he’d been thawed out of the ice his life was nothing _but_ change, and it felt like whenever he’d start getting acclimated everything turned on its head and he had to start over from scratch.

And so he ran.

Today, though, something was different. Steve skidded to a stop as he passed the bench. There was a package resting on it, wrapped in bright red, white and blue paper. He looked around to see who might have left it, but there was no-one in the immediate vicinity. He approached it carefully – he’d learned not to take things at face value – and then stopped again when he saw his name printed on it: **Steve** , in bold, blocky letters.

He knew he should call someone, probably Tony, who’d be able to detect if there was something explosive underneath the giftwrap, but Steve’s gut was telling him there was no threat. Still, when he picked up the box he did so gingerly. 

Whatever was inside the box wasn’t heavy, and didn’t make any suspicious sounds. The wrapping job itself was exemplary, every crease and fold holding an almost razor edge. Steve didn’t want to tear it, so he methodically worked each piece of tape loose. He carefully folded up the paper once he had it off, and then examined the plain white shirt box that he’d revealed. There was no store name, no indication where it came from or what might be inside.

The box was taped shut, too. Steve slid his finger along the seam, snapping each piece he encountered, until he could open the box. And then he just stared.

“You draw.”

Steve spun so fast the pack of high-end art pencils almost went flying out of the box. There on the other side of the trail, partially shaded by trees, was the elusive James Buchanan Barnes, bundled up in a drab green jacket and wearing a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes.

Steve didn’t know what to say. All this time chasing Bucky down, determined to talk him into coming home, and now his words were all caught in his throat; a tangle of discordant emotion that threatened to choke him.

“That’s right, isn’t it?” The tentative uncertainty in that question made Steve’s chest ache.

He managed to rasp out, “Yeah.”

Bucky nodded, slouching posture making him look smaller than he was. Steve studied his friend’s face, once so familiar and now completely foreign; he’d lived a lifetime while Steve was on ice, and they hadn’t been good years. There was awareness in his eyes, though. _Bucky_ was in those eyes, and for now that was all Steve needed to know. 

“Thank you,” he said. “For the gift. That’s…I really like it.”

He took a step forward, and Bucky took one back. Steve held up his free hand in a placating gesture. 

“I just want to talk.”

Bucky eyed him warily. His hands had come out of his pockets and he looked ready to run. Steve didn’t know what to do if he did. Chasing seemed ill-advised, all things considered, but he couldn’t lose Bucky. Not again.

“I remember you,” Bucky said, his words hesitant. “I missed your birthday.”

Steve bit his bottom lip, hard. “I missed a lot of yours, too.” He remembered the last one they’d celebrated together, though. He hadn’t been able to afford proper gift wrap, so he’d used his pencils to decorate butcher paper with fighter planes and pin-up girls. 

“Buck, I…can you stay?” Steve desperately wanted him to say yes. Wanted him to come back to the Tower, be part of his life again. He’d lost everything and everyone else he knew, but he still had a chance with his best friend.

“For a minute.” Bucky circled around Steve and sat on the bench, all hunched in on himself.

It wasn’t what Steve had in mind, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He sat down next to Bucky, making sure to keep some space between them, and put the lid back on the shirt box; he tucked the giftwrap in with the pencils.

“I didn’t steal it,” Bucky said defensively. 

Steve looked at him in surprise. “I didn’t think you did.” He didn’t have the first clue where Bucky might be getting money but he didn’t doubt that he was telling the truth. “Do you have a place to stay?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good.”

They sat for a minute or two in awkward silence, Steve trying hard to think of the right thing to say that would make Bucky want to stay with him. They’d been closer than brothers once; back then he’d have known the right words to use.

“You run every day,” Bucky finally said, looking over at Steve with an almost shy expression.

Steve kicked himself for not realizing sooner that he was being watched. How else would Bucky have known where to leave the package? “It helps me think.”

“I could run with you. I can keep up.”

There was almost a promise in those words and Steve grabbed hold of it as hard as he could. “I’d like that.”

Bucky studied him for a long moment and then he nodded. “Same time tomorrow.” He got up and immediately moved backwards into the trees. Steve knew better than to try and stop him, though he couldn’t keep his arms from twitching with the desire to hold him in place.

“I’ll be here,” he said instead.

“I know.” Maybe it was a trick of the light but Steve could’ve sworn that Bucky’s lips had curved up ever so slightly into something resembling a smile. And then he was gone, like a shadow banished by the sun.

Steve sat on the bench a while longer, holding his belated birthday present reverently in his hands. He let out a shuddering breath and couldn’t help the smile that stole over his face. Two gifts in one day, because Bucky had given him something infinitely more precious than pencils. He’d given Steve the gift of _tomorrow_.

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** I hope you enjoy this, Taste! I’ve been agonizing over this for days, doing endless edits and tweaks since I’ve never written in the MCU fandom before. Nerve-wracking! But I wanted to thank you for everything you do for me. You’re the absolute bestest! ::hugs:: And thanks for the title, which I totally stole from you and which really inspired the whole story.


End file.
